


Nightfall

by InfiniteJediLove



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt Obi-Wan, JEDI AU, Jinnobi Challenge 2020, M/M, Rescue Fic, cold unfriendly planets because that seems to be a trend for me, disguises, hurt Qui-Gon, jinnobi, smugglers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26895373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfiniteJediLove/pseuds/InfiniteJediLove
Summary: With its orbital cycle lasting several months, survival on FR-34V1 is impossible once the four months of darkness begins. When circumstances bring him to the desolate planet, hours before nightfall, one man must undertake a dangerous plan in order to escape, knowing that time is already running out.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 10
Kudos: 32





	Nightfall

**Author's Note:**

> hello everyone! Well here we are, already October 2020! Hopefully this month brings you lots of good things, even if it’s just a smile to your face when reading this fic and discount halloween candy. The Jinnobi Challenge is going on all month (1st-28th) if you are a Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan shipper, so there should be more wonderful works out there for you to read soon! I hope you like this fic, it’s a bit more subterfuge then I normally write, but I think it turned out well, let me know what you think as comments feed my soul. :)

Small and sparsely populated, FR-34V1 at first seemed a planet without life. Its orbital cycle around the Kli-O star on the far edges of the Outer Rim would have been impossible for many species to endure. Each day lasted almost four months, although so little sunlight permeated the surface that the planet remained in a perpetual state of near darkness. Remarkably, a few plants had evolved to bioluminousity, the glowing fibers of their cell structure providing them with enough light and warmth to survive the harsh elements but even the hardiest plant could not withstand FR-34V1’s night cycle, four months of absolute darkness and cold.

Atmosphere gases rose in strange wisps, trailing through the sky, almost purple in the iridescent glow of the foliage that grew vertical from the steep jagged peaks of the land. The majority of FR-34V1’s surface was black volcanic rock with the Swaidra Plains the flattest section of land on the planet. It was here that the ship landed. Descending vertically through the thin purple cloud matter, the small angular spacecraft moved almost soundlessly, its black metal exterior blending in with the shadowed surroundings so that only its movement indicated its presence. It glided toward the planet’s surface, nearly touching the pulverized rock of the open plains before the bow of the ship flipped horizontal. Steam issued from landing gear, the ship stilling. Had there been any creatures nearby the sudden movement beneath the ship would have startled them, but there were no animals left. Those that had not died in the approaching night were deep in hibernation. There was no one to see the plains shift, the ground suddenly sink, the ship descending into a dark hole as if pulled down by an invisible hand.

Inside the ship’s cockpit, a man sat behind the console, the hood of his dark traveling cape shielding his face as the ship moved deeper underground. Cliff walls surrounded the ship, only the glow of plants growing along the rock cast any light. The interior of the ship was quiet and unlit, the man remaining still, waiting. Instruments along the console’s control panel indicated the change of temperature and air pressure with near-silent warnings, the planet’s thinner crust allowing for barely enough warmth to heat the deep underground passage.

It took several minutes for the moving ground beneath him to slow its descent. The rock walls opened up into a huge cavern, the blur of steam momentarily obscuring the ship’s viewscreen. When it cleared, a maze of metal and light lay before him. Crudely built but efficient structures lined the edges of the massive cave. The center housed several ships, many larger and much more heavily modified than his own. The man in the cockpit reached forward, tapping in the landing sequence. Figures were visible through the steam and lights, some stopping to watch as the ship’s platform moved downward, before locking into place against the cave floor with a shudder. The man sat for a moment, considering his situation before rising. His movements were silent, his clothes blending into the black metal of the ship’s interior, concealing him while allowing the agility his light build excelled at.

A small group of heavily armed beings had gathered at the base of the landing platform, the sight of them not deterring the man who walked toward them, footsteps soundless against the metal ramp. Steam issued up around him, filling the cave and providing slight warmth just as the blue heat lights inset on the slanted roofs of the makeshift buildings did. There was no escaping the cold but the steam and light made it more bearable. High above him a near invisible atmosphere barrier shimmered, rendering the air breathable for most humanoid species. A male green-toned twi’lek that towered over the rest of the group stepped forward, steam circling his tall form. The man stopped a few paces away, both eyeing one another before the twi’lek turned toward the ship.

“Rew-make?” he demanded, blue light glinting off his lekku and the thick gold hoop pierced through his septum.

The hooded figure inclined his head in response. A small human woman with wild hair and numerous scars snorted inelegantly behind the twi’lek, shaking her dark mane back and crossing arms over ragged battle armor,

“You’re late. The rew shipment was supposed to arrive days ago,” she declared.

The man shrugged, the fitted leather of his dark jacket shifting with the subtle movement, “I had some trouble,” he answered evasively.

The twi’lek grinned, revealing pointed teeth, “you better hope you’re not delayed here, you’ll have more trouble than you can handle if you can’t make it off planet before nightfall.”

The hooded figure said nothing. He knew of the risks. The extreme cold of FR-34V1’s approaching night would freeze ship engines and kill anything living that was left behind. Already there were signs of the underground base being disassembled, the few present only a skeleton crew of those that had once been there.

“Search his ship,” the twi’lek instructed the others sharply, “make sure his shipment is all there. I would hate,” he said with another slow smile, “for him to get in trouble with Uriv.”

The others wandered toward the ship, a mix of individuals of various species and dangerous backgrounds. Next to some of the other ships, the rew ship looked fragile and old. It was built for speed not aggression, unlike the three huge warships that were still present in the cavern. The hooded man remained still, gloveless fingers flexing slightly, trying to adjust to the bone-chilling cold. Two of the group inspecting the outside of his ship began arguing over something, their voices barely heard over the hiss of rising steam.

“Uriv demands to see all newcomers.” The twi’lek stated near him, lekku twitching as he turned his head slightly, watching the argument with bland disinterest. The other male remained silent.

“No fear?” the twi’lek observed scornfully, shifting slightly closer in an obvious attempt to intimidate with his greater height.

The human shrugged again, “this isn’t the first smuggling base I’ve been to,” he replied quietly.

An angry sound rose across the distance between them and the others, more of the group joining the argument so it was now four individuals debating loudly at the base of the rew ship. The twi’lek turned to watch the fighting once more, his pale blue eyes as cold as their surroundings.

“Yes, well, it’s different here. Any problem with your shipment and it will be the last.”

The hooded man inclined his head, face shielded against the rotating blue lights high above him, “I understand.”

A sharp noise came again, the dark-haired woman who had spoken earlier was yelling something, her blaster drawn. She stunned the tall cerean in front of her, the rest of the group on the landing platform howling with gleeful derision. They soon joined her in kicking the unconscious crewmember, reveling in the brutality. The twi’lek laughed softly, tossing his headtails back, his gaze both vicious and challenging as the smaller man shifted slightly in the first sign of discomfort.

“Welcome to the Below,” the twi’lek hissed with a wide smile, his sharp teeth bared.

* * *

He was led by the twi’lek to a tall circular structure built from thick durasteel plating, the air warming marginally as they approached the solid metal door. The twi’lek raised a fist but instead of knocking he spread fingers out, laying his large hand flat against the corroded steel. After a moment the huge door pulled upward, both stepping back as it rose slowly. The man watched it reveal another rusted door, this one requiring a code. Rumor was true at least about Uriv being a paranoid crimelord. The twi’lek input a long string of symbols, clawed fingers pulling back sharply as the inner door slid open with a loud hiss heard over even the increased steam that rose thick around them, their figures ghostlike as they stepped into a darkness too black to see in.

The sharp smell of rusting metal pervaded the man’s senses, the steam vanishing as the doors sealed abruptly behind them. Sudden bright light flooded the area, focusing to a narrow beam. The man turned his head away, keeping his face concealed as the light centered on him, tracking his movements. The rest of the room was still dark but there were thick metal cables beneath his feet attached to ancient machines that appeared to have seen many years of wear. Most were broken, remnants scattered across the paneled floor.

The man stepped forward, pausing as he noticed the brightness of bone. The skeleton of some creature lay crumpled half under pieces of what had perhaps been a metal hull to a ship at one time. The bone structure was clearly humanoid. The man stilled, glancing quickly around the curved room. It was a large space, still cold, his breath rising visible in the darkness. One of his hands strayed toward his belt where two sets of knives were holstered. The twi’lek laughed softly behind him, mistaking the cautious gesture as fear. Other bones were piled against one wall, fallen haphazardly. Were he more naive, the man would have only thought them swept there out of the way. But he considered the dimensions of the area, the gouging of the metal wall above the strewn bones and knew he was standing in an execution chamber of some kind.

Across from him, the curved inner wall parted suddenly, metal splitting to reveal a tall bulky figure that moved forward into the light. Gar’tol Uriv was a man seldom seen. Large and brutish, his face was hard, lined with the cold intelligence of a being that had never lost a fight. His dark hair was cut short, his eyes heavy-lidded. The light above them dimmed and dispersed so that the metal chamber was equally lit by a dull yellow glow, glinting on rusted machines and bone. Uriv walked toward them, heavy boots ringing against the steel-plated floor. His plain dark clothing thick for warmth. There was no immediate sign of his immense wealth, only the look in his eyes indicated the reach of his power within a realm of criminals and killers.

“Who is this?” he demanded roughly, staring at the smaller human male before glancing sharply at the twi’lek.

The twi’lek shoved the hooded man forward a step, his green lekku twitching with nervous anticipation, “a smuggler, he brings the shipment from Rew.”

Uriv frowned, the strong lines of his face twisting with distaste, dark brown eyes narrowing, “the supplies are all there?” he questioned sharply.

The twi’lek jerked his head in a nod and Uriv turned, “leave us,” he grunted, already walking away.

The twi’lek stepped back, disappointed, as if he had expected to witness the smuggler’s execution instead. He disappeared into the darkness, the main doors hissing open for him. The doors leading to the room Uriv had exited were still parted, warm air tangible even from a distance. Uriv walked into the room and the man hesitated briefly before following him.

Uriv’s headquarters were neither bare nor opulent, the space largely functional. A heavy blaster sat on a large desk but the smuggler guessed it was more for show. A man of Uriv’s size with his influence, did not need weapons to kill. Uriv’s back was still to him as the crimelord studied data files strewn across the desk. Such casualness was also for show, the smaller man knew any sudden movement on his part would end his life. Uriv had survived the assassin attempts of many that had mistaken indifference for carelessness.

“So, you’re my newest arrival,” Uriv addressed the man roughly, still pretending disinterest. The man inclined his head, stepping closer to the desk,

“Obi-Wan Kenobi of the Ter’Sly clan,”

Uriv’s eyes narrowed at the introduction, head turning to study the hooded figure, “a smuggler from Rew,” he murmured slowly. The man pushed back his deep hood, revealing a youthful but stern face, unshaven to the point that he had a slight beard. Light auburn hair fell across his brow, almost into his large watchful eyes, their greenish color striking in the light.

Uriv’s hard expression remained unchanged, “you’re young to be a rew smuggler,” He finally spoke, dark eyes falling to Obi-Wan’s belt, examining the double knives that rews traditionally carried.

“Not at all,” Obi-Wan responded, his voice level, almost polite except for a slight edge to the faintly accented tone, “I made a substantial living smuggling when I was still a child. I am now in my twenty-sixth year and have not yet found a job too difficult.”

Uriv continued watching him with chilling disregard, “this one may prove to be, I wanted that shipment days ago.”

“I apologize, there was a investigator on Corellia –”

“Your apologies mean nothing to me, I ordered this shipment in advance!” Uriv snarled, his features etched with sudden rage. He swung around to face the smuggler directly, taking a step forward so that he loomed over the much smaller man. “Understand this, no inconvenience is as bad as inconveniencing me,” Uriv hissed, their faces inches apart as the rew smuggler tilted his head up to meet the furious gaze.

They stared at one another, both watchful, waiting for the other to give ground. Finally, Obi-Wan nodded, his expression calm. Anger disappeared from Uriv’s face, replaced with impassiveness once again, the change so sudden and duplicitous that it was more alarming than his fury. Uriv turned aside, moving back to the small desk,

“My crew have confirmed your shipment to be accounted for. As I have already paid ahead, there is no need for you to stay.”

Obi-Wan stepped forward, “Sir, it is rew tradition to stay for a day at each destination to escape misfortune from the Gods,” he protested softly.

Uriv’s mouth twisted with contempt, dark eyes narrowing, “you have bad timing to be religious, Kenobi from Rew,” he spat out, “nightfall is only half a day away, as the Republic measures it.”

The tone of the crimelord’s voice unsettled the smuggler. He had been prepared to endure anger and brutality when encountering the infamous Gar’tol Uriv, considering the tales he had heard of the older man’s propensity for violence but Uriv was also cunning and unpredictable to a degree that Obi-Wan had rarely dealt with.

“I need some time to refuel at least,” the smuggler countered.

Uriv watched him, his heavy-lidded gaze unmoving. He said nothing for a long time, but there was something dangerous rising in him, an expression ghosting over his blocky features that Obi-Wan had only ever seen on those who killed for the pleasure of it. He thought again of the bones scattered in the other room.

“I can see that you are going to be difficult. I have ways of dealing with difficulties,” Uriv spoke finally, his tone savage, “you can stay for your traditional amount of time but know that your survival depends entirely on me.”

* * *

Outside Uriv’s headquarters, the rest of the Below was in a state of activity. The few crewmembers left were gathering equipment and finishing the last details of packing. With the approach of nightfall, the underground base would be abandoned for the next four months until the day cycle began again. The inability for most to survive on such a planet made it the perfect hideout for smugglers, far enough away from the Republic that they risked little chance of being caught. Obi-Wan had met many individuals who chose to avoid certain laws but Uriv’s group seemed particularly hardened to redemption. Those who followed Uriv were nearly as well-known killers as Uriv. Obi-Wan had no desire to compete with such brutality. Though skilled in combat fighting, he found stealth to be more useful in dangerous places. Already he was moving away from Uriv’s headquarters, his dark clothes blending into the shadowed edges of the huge cavern.

Steam issued from the ground, obscuring him further so that his thin shape was barely visible. He glanced upward, focusing on the faint bluish shimmer of the atmosphere barrier. He didn’t know how far it extended into the caverns few side-tunnels. Though the barrier was strong enough to fill the cave, it was uncertain how deep it could penetrate into sheer rock before disintegrating. If he left the atmosphere barrier, he would have only a matter of minutes before exposure would kill him. Still, his feet led him onward, body shifting deeper into the shadows. He moved further into darkness, seeing the faint outline of a tunnel deviating away from the area. The flickering translucence of the atmosphere barrier bisected the tunnel opening, though he had no way of knowing if it reformed further down the tunnel.

Obi-Wan reached for his belt, pulling out a small breather. It was made for underwater purposes but without an oxygen mask it would have to do. He paused only briefly before stepping through the barrier. The shock of the barrier current hit him with a pulse of pure energy, knocking him almost off his feet and jarring through his heart and limbs. He stumbled past it, inserting the breather into his mouth with shaking hands, flinching at the crushing cold and lack of air. His eyes watered in an attempt to provide moisture where there was none. Obi-Wan moved quickly, focusing on the thick rock wall of the tunnel that extended upward thousands of meters. High above him there was a break in the rock, creating a ledge of some kind. Faint bluish light gleamed there, an indicator that the atmosphere barrier’s excess energy had pooled into the hollow spot, creating a small area still protected by the shield.

Obi-Wan shed his hooded cape, the thick warmth would have been appreciated but he couldn’t afford to have any extra weight slowing him down. Without hesitation he began to scale the sheer rock face, guided by instinct in almost complete darkness. Phosphorescent plants were sparse here. Only a few plants grew through the cracks in the rock face, their forms a strange mix of moss and ferns, glowing faint prisms of color. Obi-Wan struggled to keep hold of the rock, feet barely gripping before having to find another place. He scaled upward, focusing on keeping his breathing shallow but steady, knowing the breather was already struggling to compute enough oxygen.

He felt it before he reached it. Obi-Wan looked upward, the barrier extended above him where the glow of plantlife grew a few meters higher. It hummed with energy, tantalizing close as he neared the ledge and he moved with renewed determination, ignoring the rock cutting into his palms, blood congealing slightly in the frigid cold.

And then he was there, climbing over the rock ledge, half-falling to the ground as he passed through the barrier once more. The shock of it hit him harder this time, dazing him momentarily even as he was aware of light and warm moisture, water splashing against his boots. He looked up. The steep cliff wall had pulled back, strata fallen open at some point in time so that a jagged sort of cave extended between the layers of massive volcanic rock, a few meters wide and several meters tall, filled by the reaches of the barrier.

The dark rock ceiling high above him glowed with a beautiful blue light. Obi-Wan blinked, climbing to his feet uncertainly. Thousands of plants spread over the rock ceiling, luminous trendils extending across the surface. Small white orbs hung from the plants, flowering buds of some kind, he guessed, though he had never seen anything like it. His mind felt stunned, that sense of hope from earlier filling him and something like awe, to be surrounded by such strange beauty.

Steam rose in layers around him, the air much warmer than in the Below. He reached out a hand toward the caved side of the cliff wall to steady himself, heart still struggling to adjust to the impact of passing through the barrier. His fingers hovered near a plant that had grown downward in slender gleaming vines. Heat radiated from it. Obi-Wan removed his breather, inhaling the warm air thick with moisture, steam shifting against him, rising from everywhere. Blue light shone along black rock, the iridescent vegetation he recognized from the Below grew thick on the ground, moss-ferns shining with muted hues of blue and green. Pools of water gathered in small puddles, reflecting the shimmering light.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” the voice was soft, hoarse from disuse.

Obi-Wan turned his head to the side, remaining still as a shape moved out of the darkness. It formed itself into that of a tall man of a strong build though he appeared thinner than he should, even in the shadows. Long tangled hair fell down the man’s shoulders and back, his jaw bearded. His dark clothes were ragged but he seemed in much better health than expected. The man gestured to the foliage growing all along the ledge, the movement conveying exhaustion and a sort of contained power.

“The steam rises from the Below and provides a certain concentrated moisture and warmth for the plants inside this part of the barrier. They’ve cultivated enough of their own heat and light to provide for themselves now, perhaps even during the entire nightfall. Life from darkness.”

The man offered the smallest of smiles, dark blue eyes lit by the soft light around them, the gray in his brown hair shining silver by the reflected glow. Obi-Wan could not quite form words, he could only watch the man, hope burning in his chest. The taller man turned, lines of weariness visible on his still handsome face. He stepped forward, half-steadying himself against the wall.

“Did the Council send you?” he asked.

Obi-Wan nodded, approaching a few steps. The Force flooded through him, surging fully in the small space. Steam obscured the other man’s face briefly before it cleared and Obi-Wan was struck once again by the power radiating from the older man, diminished slightly with strain but not lost. He felt something forming inside him, as intense as passing through the barrier, this need to reach out, to offer support. It was so unlike him that Obi-Wan blinked, looking away momentarily. Even among Jedi he was often considered too reserved but now his mind opened to this other man as if it had never been closed. When he could find words once more, he spoke quietly,

“Your investigative reports stopped arriving four weeks ago, Master Jinn.”

He had never met Qui-Gon Jinn before. The Temple was so large, missions so long that it was not surprising that they had never come into contact. Yet, he felt as if he knew Qui-Gon. He had felt that even before hearing that the man had stopped relaying reports from FR-34VI’s underground base.

Something was there, Qui-Gon’s mind subconsciously reaching for his own. The older man studied him with sudden intensity as the Force hummed between them. It was understandable that months without contact with another Jedi would cause Qui-Gon to cling to any hint of the Force. But this was different, it was longing but more than that, more than anything Obi-Wan had ever felt. He supposed he should have been afraid. He did not like things happening that he could not predict or explain. But it was not fear that made him suddenly hesitate, shy in the presence of the other Jedi who looked so different here, flowering orbs of light floating high above them, steam circling their bodies. Qui-Gon tilted his head, moving to sit on the ground, long limbs folding gracefully but in a way that suggested he was no longer at his full strength.

“I was informed when I took the undercover assignment to investigate Uriv that I would be on my own, were something to occur,” Qui-Gon spoke as if they were conversing at the Temple and not on a narrow ledge replete with life, their minds so close to touching that Obi-Wan found it difficult to consider anything else. He swallowed, returning to the facts before him.

“Nightfall is hours away. If we don’t leave before then, you will die,” Obi-Wan said sternly, worried that so much could still go wrong. He had arrived knowing Qui-Gon was likely dead, to find him alive now but to fail in leaving the planet in time…

“I have made my peace with that,” Qui-Gon murmured. At Obi-Wan’s sharp look, he raised an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly to meet the other man’s eyes, his long hair falling heavily around his shoulders, “I was not expecting rescue,” he pointed out, voice almost unheard over the soft hiss of steam.

They were quiet for a few minutes, Obi-Wan unsure at the pull of the Force between them, the need to have some sort of connection. It was not the Jedi way to desire closeness of any kind, but he saw the same mix of uncertainty and need in Qui-Gon’s eyes, the man looking at him almost tenderly, as if he could not look enough.

“How did you manage to get into the Below?”

The question was thankfully matter-of-fact and Obi-Wan turned immediately to answer, clinging to what could be quantified and understood. He fell into the stance of a Jedi without thinking of it, “your last report mentioned that Uriv was expecting a weapons shipment from Rew. Based on your information, I was able to intercept the rew ship and take the smuggler’s place.”

The other Jedi’s eyes flickered to the rew knifes on Obi-Wan’s belt before glancing upward, their eyes meeting again, the older man’s expression difficult to interpret, “I see.”

“Uriv suspects me. We don’t have much time,” Obi-Wan pointed out, refraining from looking away from the other man’s stare, the contact still oddly intimate.

Qui-Gon spread hands in a gesture of acknowledgement, the larger man moving with ease despite the obvious difficulties of having been essentially trapped in a very small area for weeks. “I’m afraid I have none,” the older man replied, the hoarseness from his voice fading so as to reveal a pleasant lilt to it that differed from a standard Coruscant accent, “I cannot leave this area without showing up on the biosensors programmed into the atmosphere barrier. For some reason the large amount of plants in this location prevent the sensors from providing a clear reading here.”

That in itself was confusing. Obi-Wan frowned, absently running scraped fingers through his untidy hair, the glow of the plantlife edging the black rock surrounding them with blue light, “Uriv should not be able to distinguish your biosign from others,” he murmured, preoccupied with the worry that his leaving and reappearing in the atmosphere barrier could have caused further complications to the mission.

“No, but it is programmed to sound an alarm if biosigns over a certain number are in the area. If he has only twenty beings left in the Below, my biosign would trigger an alarm.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed in thought, “aren’t you still in the system?” he asked.

Steam rose between them, ghosting along the ledge, moisture dripping from the ceiling. Qui-Gon looked up from where he sat crosslegged on the floor. Even dressed in the thick civilian clothing worn by many of the crew, his hair loose and wild, he looked so much like a Jedi, his mind radiating calm and that rising feeling that moved between them in the Force.

“No. Biosigns are deactivated automatically once a person is considered dead.”

Obi-Wan took a half-step closer, stilling, as the implication of Qui-Gon’s statement became clear. He glanced around the ledge, encompassed in its cold beauty, this one place where Qui-Gon could hide within the barrier without being caught,

“You faked your own death?”

Qui-Gon shrugged slightly, but the movement suggested more weariness than disregard, “I knew that Uriv suspected me, he is an extremely watchful individual. As I drew closer to certain truths in my investigation, my situation became more precarious.” The older man looked away, gaze falling on the plant-covered rock beneath their feet, he inhaled audibly before continuing speaking in the same calm tone of earlier, “to avoid being caught and executed, I went into a Force trance one night, stopping my heart. The others thought I had killed myself when they discovered me. Uriv instructed them to throw me in a side tunnel, outside the atmosphere barrier. I had to move quickly once that happened. I found my way here, within the barrier but hidden.”

Obi-Wan stepped forward, crouching so that there would be no discrepancy between their heights, although when standing the older Jedi had been quite a bit taller than himself, “how did you survive?” he asked softly. The Force flowed between them, filled with indescribable emotion. It was strange to meet this way, outside the Temple, their dark clothes faded and worn under the blue shine of the plants surrounding them.

“Every week a new shipment would arrive. Uriv has trade policies with many other smugglers and dealers,” Qui-Gon murmured, “at first, during a new arrival he deactivated the biosensors, I was able to slip into parts of the base and gather the supplies I needed. I had to be careful, the biosensors always reinstated themselves too soon for me to get to any of the landing platforms. I thought perhaps when the majority of his crew left over the last week, there may be a chance. But everything is monitored now. Uriv’s paranoia worsens the closer the planet’s night cycle approaches.”

Obi-Wan considered the matter carefully, brow creased, “the biosensors will have to be deactivated permanently in order for you to leave undetected,” he surmised quietly.

“Yes.”

Qui-Gon watched him, gaze steady. He was beautiful, though that was not the first description that Obi-Wan would have thought himself capable of when considering the other man. Qui-Gon was tall, powerfully built, but too thin now. His features were youthful and aristocratic at the same time, dark blue eyes intent but not unkind. There was something to him that filled Obi-Wan with warmth, though such emotions seemed so entirely implausible that he stood abruptly, uncertain once more.

“Very well,” he stated, “once I deactivate the sensors, I’ll shut down the heating lights. That should distract everyone long enough for you to board my ship, unseen.”

“A dangerous plan,” Qui-Gon remarked quietly, tilting his head back to look up at Obi-Wan, the soft glow of the plants around them shining on his pale skin, “especially against someone like Uriv. However, I suppose it is dangerous for you to be here at all.”

“A Jedi does not run from danger,” Obi-Wan responded, studying the area once more, steam winding around their forms. Water dripped lightly from the plant-covered rocks above them, the very air alive with the Force.

“Still, I am surprised someone was sent on my behalf, considering the risks.”

He turned back to Qui-Gon, meeting the dark blue eyes that were filled with exhaustion and hope in equal measure, “I volunteered. There was a possibility you were still alive,” Obi-Wan said, suddenly inordinately shy. He unclipped a small pouch from his belt, pulling out some protein cubes and extending his hand to Qui-Gon, “I have some food capsules here, do you need anything else?”

There was a pause before Qui-Gon shook his head, his large fingers trembling as they touched Obi-Wan’s scraped palm. The Force swelled between them and Obi-Wan gasped, dizzy suddenly with the intensity of it all. Qui-Gon pulled his hand back sharply, the moment abruptly halted. The older Jedi bent his head, setting the protein cubes aside, his long hair falling forward, concealing his face. Obi-Wan turned to go, suddenly unsure if he would be able to leave were he to stay any longer in the other man’s presence. He had never felt the Force like that before.

“Obi-Wan?” the sound of his name startled him. He had not told Qui-Gon who he was and they had never met before, yet when he faced the man Qui-Gon was studying him once more, searching Obi-Wan’s face intently, “if nightfall comes and there is a chance for you to escape without me, please do so.”

The calm measured tone of the man’s voice had not changed but there was a command there and Obi-Wan knew he was expected to obey. He crossed arms over his dark jacket. The light of the plants around them reflected in the pools of water, shining against his reddish hair and the knives along his belt.

“No,” he stated simply, “I chose to find you, I consider this mission incomplete if we do not leave together.”

Qui-Gon Jinn looked at him hard, confusion crossing his features before he tilted his head slightly, unexpectedly offering a small weary smile, “I suppose that you are the type of Jedi to never abandon a mission,” he remarked, his voice almost unheard over the hiss of moisture rising from the ground.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said.

* * *

The Below was nearly deserted, those that were left moved in frenzied motions, hauling crates onto the last warship still present. Obi-Wan bit his lip, the pressing chill in the air signaling the coming night. He didn’t have the luxury of time to plan ahead his actions, instead he wove through steam and shadow, always keeping out of sight. A pair of smugglers hurried past, carrying a heavy box emblazoned with the Lorth-IV medical seal but heaping with rare gleaming Firewish mineral. Likely stolen from the miners who risked their lives on Lorth-IV to excavate the precious stone.

The heat lamps were flickering above Obi-Wan, shorting out as the increased activity in various areas overloaded the decaying atmosphere barrier. Although Obi-Wan doubted the barrier would fall completely during the night cycle, Uriv was too paranoid to leave the base entirely exposed.

It was dark and still around Uriv’s headquarters, the makeshift structure unchanged by the chaos of the few smugglers readying the warship. Obi-Wan slipped around the edge of the building, looking for structural weakness. He remembered perfectly the code the twi’lek had used to enter but the front doors required biosign access that he didn’t have. He frowned, hands sliding along the outer wall, ignoring the cold. He had seen a flaw when inside Uriv’s execution chamber. The durasteel plating was weakened from the numerous blaster shots embedded into the metal where the majority of the killings took place. He paced out the distance, stilling as he felt the rupture beneath his fingers of durasteel pitted with blaster damage. The huge cavern filled with the roar of the warship’s engines behind him. He was running out of time.

Obi-Wan knelt, relieved that the smugglers had been so foolish as to build with durasteel plating. It was powerful enough to withstand direct impact indefinitely, but once the plates weakened they could be separated along the seams with something as simple as a blade. Swiftly, Obi-Wan reached for one of the rew knives at his belt, setting it into the ruptured plate edge.

The tracking light within the chamber would still be working but it likely monitored ground movement. He’d have to be careful not to disrupt anything on the floor. Once inside Uriv’s personal quarters he could deactivate the biosigns and shut off the heat lights while the crew were distracted. It was too close to nightfall for his comfort but he didn’t have any other options.

The steam filtering from the ground was cold, less visible now that the heat lamps were solely concentrating on the landing pad where Uriv’s warship was. Obi-Wan turned his head, just making out the much smaller shape of his own ship on the other side of the base. He had no idea how he would make it out of the Below alive, especially with a weakened Jedi, but he would do it.

He pushed the knife further into the rupture, twisting and sliding it harshly down. The metal rented as easily as if it were cloth, leaving a sizable hole. In seconds, Obi-Wan was in, his slender body utilizing every Jedi lesson on flexibility and silence to slide between the gaping metal panels and into the cold dark of the inner chamber. He breathed in slowly, reaching for the Force to keep his balance on the roughened walls. There were no handholds, nothing but his own skill in levitation to keep him from falling as he slowly crawled forward, the subtle curve of the plated walls near impossible to travel.

Sweat slid from his brow as he concentrated on the Force, trusting it to guide him. There was something else there, another presence, and Obi-Wan blinked as he felt Qui-Gon distantly, the man slipping into his mind despite how little they knew one another. He had never experienced something like this with someone as far away as Qui-Gon was but it hardly mattered why they were so attuned to each other, not if it helped to keep them both alive. The roaring of the warship outside was less audible in the absolute dark, Obi-Wan pulling up each memory of the room’s dimensions. He moved with absolute efficiency, knowing every wasted second lost them more time to the cold that was already crushing against his defenses, night so closely upon him.

He would never know what alerted him first in the dark, only that the blaster shot meant for him missed as he instinctively swung away, dropping to the ground and rolling to his feet, knife in hand. The tracking light snapped on, blinding him as it zeroed in on where he stood and Obi-Wan ducked another round of blasterfire. The laugh of the twi’lek smuggler came in the dark and Obi-Wan heard the sounds of others closing in even as he threw himself behind a large piece of overturned machinery to shield against the blasterfire.

The Force was spiraling through him, racing faster then he could control, Qui-Gon’s presence responding to his own fear and Obi-Wan tried to close the connection, tried to remain calm even as blaster shots splintered into the metal near him, pain erupting suddenly along his side. Obi-Wan knew where the next shot would land, was as familiar with the staccato bursts of blasterfire as he was with his own breathing now. He whirled away from his makeshift cover just as the machine caught fire, the room lit briefly with flames. Several figures approached, blasterfire singing as it tore into the durasteel walls, the tracking light making his location painfully visible no matter how quickly he moved.

He saw the victorious grin of the scarred woman from earlier, her blastershot grazing his arm and Obi-Wan leapt to evade the next, knowing even as he did that the twi’lek’s own shots arched to meet him. At first it was just the pressure of being struck, his body crumbling to the floor, his breath leaving him. Then came the pain, a terrifying scorching sensation flooding his nerve endings as powerfully as the burning agony searing through his chest.

Automatically, Obi-Wan felt himself still in order to conserve energy. The Force surrounded him, the warning in it keeping him tense and unable to sink into the healing trance that he desperately needed. The light had dispersed to show the room around them, the acrid smell of charred metal thick in the cold air as a strong figure moved forward, the other shapes parting for it.

Obi-Wan gasped in air tightly, struggling to remain conscious as he looked up into Gar’tol Uriv’s face. The man studied him, his expression blank except for perhaps the faintest hint of surprise at Obi-Wan’s audacity.

“Didn’t I tell you, Kenobi from Rew,” he hissed, “that your survival depends entirely on me?”

Flames flickered, stuttering to nothingness as the burning remains of the machine crashed to the ground behind them. The features of Uriv’s crew were blurred, triumphant and savage as they circled him. Obi-Wan inhaled sharply, the pain suffocating.

Uriv crouched near him and Obi-Wan instinctively pressed his smaller body closer to the ground, feeling cable and bone shards dig into his back as he tried to move away. The smuggler watched him for a long time, his lined face enigmatic. Obi-Wan met the man’s gaze fearlessly, jaw clenched against the agony radiating through his torso.

Pain surged harder and Obi-Wan’s muscles tightened further as Uriv reached for the younger man’s belt, sliding loose one of the rew knives. The slender blade shown in the weak light filtering over them, Obi-Wan’s breath visible in the air as he struggled not to give into the overpowering darkness seeping into the edges of his vision.

Uriv dragged the sharp tip of the knife down the sleeve of Obi-Wan’s jacket, piercing the dark leather and slashing white-hot into the skin below. Blood sprayed upward from his wrist. Numbness overtook Obi-Wan, his mind reeling. Forty percent, he thought distantly, that was how much blood the human body could lose. The blaster shots cauterized wounds, he wouldn’t die instantly from them and Uriv would never allow the possibility that Obi-Wan might still be able to crawl to his ship. No, he knew even as the smuggler stood, tucking the blade into his own belt that Uriv meant for Obi-Wan to die this way, his blood spreading along the floor, his mind struggling to overcome the pain even as his heart raced, more blood spraying from the open wound. He had failed, he would bleed out here where countless other beings once had, leaving Qui-Gon to a terrible death. Even if the older Jedi managed to survive the first few days of nightfall, he would starve long before the planetary day cycle began again.

* * *

Uriv stepped away from the smaller figure, jerking his head toward Ra’gur, the twi’lek grinning with pleasure at the blood quickly pooling around the rew smuggler.

“Prepare the ship to break orbit, we leave in two minutes.”

“About how long this scum has,” one of his crew spat, bowing deferentially to him the moment Uriv glanced their way, hard gaze sliding back to the rew smuggler.

The male’s visible skin not already coated in blood was extremely pale, his eyes closed, unable to stay conscious with how quickly he was losing blood. Uriv watched him, considering the young handsome face, idly running thick fingers along the knife he’d taken from the rew. The death was still too good for the likes of the smuggler. No one had ever gotten this close to sabotaging him in all the years he’d worked in the Outer Rim. It had been a shame almost, someone so treacherous and daring would have made a good addition to his crew.

Still, if Uriv had had the time he would have drawn out the rew’s suffering for hours. Pain was the only teacher in the Outer Rim and the rew smuggler would have learned that lesson countless times before his eventual execution. The whole matter was a waste, considering the rew hadn’t begged once for his life. He hadn’t even been surprised at knowing how he would die.

Uriv turned to leave when the light vanished. Absolute darkness pressed against him and he stumbled back, reaching for his blaster, hearing his own crew fumbling for weapons. It was an energy shortage, he told himself fiercely, it couldn’t be anything else, they were the only ones left in the Below.

Instantly the tracking light snapped on, searching for an extra biosign. Uriv froze, blaster in hand, face expressionless as the searchlight lit over a tall thin humanoid standing just inside the entrance of the chamber. Ra’gur hissed a oath in Ryl, the crew murmuring as the man across from them lifted his head, long hair falling loose around a face that they had last seen motionless in death.

Uriv swung his blaster up, firing two rapid shots that the man would have no chance of evading but somehow the shots went wild, pinging off the walls and shattering the tracking light. Darkness fell, the cold impossible and for the first time Uriv felt the beginning of fear as vivid green light whirred in the dark, a glowing blade extending from the man’s hand, the blue eyes of the man colder than the entire world around them.

Ra’gur snarled, his blaster rifle snapping off several clips, the Jedi’s saber deflecting each one, the crew scrambling to escape as everything descended into chaos. The man’s movements showed no hint of weakness, only infinite grace and power. Uriv’s grip on his blaster tightened and he shoved one of his crew aside, pushing her in the path of a deflected shot meant for him. He had heard of Jedi but he had never seen one in battle, had never thought there would be something capable of filling him with fear like the sight of this man returned from the dead did.

Ra’gur’s howl echoed through the room as he fell to that emerald blade and Uriv sent another round of shots that the Jedi evaded easily, leaping through the air to land silently and Uriv suddenly knew what would get him out of here alive. He could feel slick blood beneath his feet, and he swung his blaster downward, the barrel connecting against soft hair and the dark fabric of a rew cape.

The Jedi stilled a few paces away, his lightsaber humming, his face white against the blackness of the room. Uriv’s mouth curled into a thin smile, “there’s still time,” he hissed, “he’ll bleed out soon, but he’s not dead yet.”

The man across from him was silent, his blue eyes vivid in the light from his lasersword, his face tight with hidden emotion. Two crewmembers stumbled in the dark, their silhouettes cutting across brief light as they managed to find the controls to the entrance, escaping out to the warship. Neither Uriv nor the Jedi moved, Uriv watching the man closely, knowing this was his one chance. How fitting that the rew smuggler’s deception now worked in his favor. He knew it, the moment he saw the Jedi evade his second attempt to finish things. That quick leap through the air, the silent land. He’d seen the rew do the same. They were both Jedi and therein lay his advantage over the situation.

“I can make you watch while I rupture his skull apart or you can let me go and attempt to get off this planet with him alive,” Uriv panted, eyes gleaming, “It’s your choice, Jedi.”

The man stared at him, the shadows in the room highlighting the hollows of his cheekbones. He looked nothing like the calm enigmatic man Uriv had first met months ago. Another supposed smuggler who had tried to betray him. He pushed the blaster barrel harder against the rew’s scalp. The Jedi would suffer for their interference one way or another.

It came between one breath and the next, Uriv unable to move, the Jedi too quick to see, that green blade a singing nightmare in the dark as it sliced through his blaster in one swift motion, swirling upward and plunging into his chest.

* * *

Qui-Gon dropped to his knees besides Obi-Wan, tearing the sleeve of his own shirt in half and wrapping it tightly around the man’s wrist. Fluid seeped through, the room too dark to see more than shapes but everywhere around Qui-Gon was the smell and feel of blood. His own weariness meant nothing, as inconsequential as the body of Uriv lying in the dark, eyes frozen open in shock. He pulled the smaller Jedi up against his torso, lifting Obi-Wan easily into his arms.

The warship was gone. The only ship left was an antique rew model and Qui-Gon stumbled toward it, trying not to think of the overwhelming cold seeping through the atmosphere barrier, or the blood that covered the Jedi in his arms. Most of the heat lamps had frozen and shattered. The wisps of moist steam barely visible in the darkness as Qui-Gon staggered through shadows, relentlessly pushing his tiring body to get to the rew ship.

He would not let Obi-Wan die in vain, he would not allow the Force to tear him apart as it threatened to do when he’d sensed the first blastershot strike the man. It had been weeks since he’d used the controls of a ship, his fingers clumsy, slick with blood, as he input the standard Jedi access codes to the landing ramp, hoping that Obi-Wan was traditionalist enough to use the same codes half the Order did. Slowly, the ramp slid down, Obi-Wan’s body slipping in his arms, his presence in the Force barely a whisper.

Qui-Gon lie Obi-Wan on the dark metal floor just inside the ship’s entrance, the younger Jedi’s face stark white from blood loss. There was no medbay, only a small collection of medical supplies on board. Qui-Gon tore into the medical bag, unlatching a transfusion kit. He collapsed to his knees at Obi-Wan’s side, fumbling with a needle and the transfusion tubing. He used one of the man’s knives to cut into his own forearm, his fingers trembling as he slid the tubing through the wound and raced to connect the rest of the kit so that his own blood could supplement Obi-Wan’s until the man was out of danger. He could feel the Force tugging at him from the energy he was expanding but he refused to consider anything else.

Quickly, Qui-Gon accessed a medical scanner, treating what injuries he could. The blaster shots were dangerous, but not as life threatening as the blood loss was. His breath clouded in front of him, the ship perilously cold. He knew he should try to start the engines before the fuel froze from the extreme drop in temperature but Qui-Gon would not leave the other Jedi’s side, entirely focused on keeping Obi-Wan alive.

It could have been minutes or an hour later when the medical scanner finally signaled that the other Jedi was out of danger. Qui-Gon gasped in cold air, staring at Obi-Wan, his body numb, the Force still clinging to Obi-Wan’s faint presence. He knew what this had cost, knew they could still very well die here.

Night had come and with it paralyzing cold. The ship engines would likely not last long enough to breach the atmosphere before freezing. A layer of frost had spread along the ship corridor, the blood on the floor icy as Qui-Gon knelt next to Obi-Wan. Only the faintest warmth still came from the other man’s skin and Qui-Gon hurriedly applied a bacta sealant to where the man’s wrist had been sliced open, working carefully around the tubing, eyes flickering from the jagged wound to that still face.

He knew Obi-Wan Kenobi even when Obi-Wan did not know him. He had known him since the day that Plo Koon had mentioned a recent knighting, had gestured to a man standing separate from the other senior padawans, speaking quietly with a instructor in the training rooms. One man in a room of dozens of beings, a man who Qui-Gon had seen and never forgotten.

He had not thought that they would meet, he had been too hesitant to speak to the man, even if he had seen him again in that time. He knew what it would lead to. No Jedi should feel so much for someone else or feel so undone at the touch of another’s mind. Qui-Gon could not allow a meeting to occur, if he did he was afraid he would not be able to prevent himself falling further for this man he had only once glimpsed in a crowded room. And now here they were, his hands struggling to bandage wounds, his blood flooding into Obi-Wan, weak before the presence of this other mind, this love he could not banish or forget.

He could not accept death, he had turned away from that the moment he had seen Obi-Wan crawl over the cliffside and cross the barrier to reach him. Whatever thoughts he had of death being a better option, of avoiding the way the Force drew him to another Jedi was gone. Obi-Wan had volunteered for this mission when everything logical stated that Qui-Gon would already be dead by the time he arrived, he had come this far and now there was no going back.

Qui-Gon was very careful not to jar the tubing connecting them, his limbs heavy, the overwhelming urge to sleep pulling at his senses. He lifted Obi-Wan once more, staggering, nearly falling in exhaustion as he made his way to the cockpit. He had to try to get out of The Below.

The rew ship was unfamiliar, but Qui-Gon had piloted enough ships in his lifetime to know what to do. He carefully deposited Obi-Wan in the co-pilot’s chair, the tubing stretching between them as he collapsed in the pilot’s chair, initiating the engines for launch. The ship jolted, rocking beneath them as the engines shuddered, attempting to send fuel sluggish with cold to the main calibrators. Qui-Gon gritted his teeth against the motion, keeping one hand clamped over his forearm to prevent the tubing from sliding loose. The lights in the cockpit flickered, falling dark again before powering on, the engines thundering with sudden ignition. Qui-Gon frantically pressed controls, pushing what energy the ship could spare to the engines. His visible breath hung in the air, his vision gray along the edges as blood seeped steadily from him into Obi-Wan’s limp form.

The landing platform beneath them vibrated violently, reacting to the pulse of the ship’s engines before it began to rise, Qui-Gon staring out at the Below rapidly disappearing from sight. And then they were in a dark tunnel, ice coating black rock where hours ago glowing plants grew. For long minutes the platform rose, shuddering as the cold increased, Qui-Gon’s whole body numb, his thoughts slow with fatigue and blood loss. He reached out, large fingers encompassing Obi-Wan’s still hand. The icy passageway around them was dark, the rew ship’s engines sputtering as they drew closer to the surface. He thought only of escape, the open stars far above them, and the brave man next to him who had done so much to find him.

Clumsily, Qui-Gon input the heating sequence. He hadn’t wanted to pull any fuel from the engines but the temperature was too severe to survive. Warm air shuddered into the cockpit, the floor quaking beneath their feet as their ship resurfaced. The Swaidra Plains were only a foreboding presence in the dark, plumes of purple vapor barely visible, the sky above lit with billions of stars. Qui-Gon sucked in a breath, reaching for the Force to combat the exhaustion suffocating him. His hands grasped the ship controls, rapidly initiating the launch sequence, the rew ship shrieking in protest as it fought against the ruthless cold.

The gravitational controls of the ship locked in place as it began to tip, rising vertically into the sky, engines struggling against the pull of the atmosphere. There was nothing Qui-Gon could do. The ship’s engines would either freeze and break apart as they climbed higher or survive the launch to orbit. Warmth seeped through the cockpit, his thoughts heavy, his gaze on Obi-Wan as the rew ship jolted against the pressure.

Blood slid through the tubing, a gleaming red from his wrist to Obi-Wan’s, their heartbeats synced now, the man’s mind closer than ever, even unconscious. Qui-Gon stared at the other Jedi, breathing shallowly, closing his eyes as warning lights flickered over the console, the ship’s engines struggling harder as they neared orbit.

And then the ship floor wrenched violently beneath them, the hull buckling, the engines screaming as fire blazed along the viewscreen, revealing the emptiness of space, FR-34V1 disappearing behind them. One by one the alarms fell silent, the ship damaged but still functioning, a small rising shape against the stars.

Qui-Gon was too tired to even register relief, his fingers trembling as he typed in the coordinates for Coruscant. He had learned long ago to put aside all but what was the most essential task and so he set the ship to autopilot, verifying that it was stable enough to get them to the Temple before turning his attention to the figure in the co-pilot’s chair.

He exhaled heavily, shivering despite the room being far warmer than he’d felt in a long while. Slowly, he reached to detach the tubing, sensing that Obi-Wan no longer needed it. The wound on the man’s arm would leave a scar even with the bacta patch, but his quick medical attention and limited Force healing had treated the worse damage.

For a long time he watched Obi-Wan, looking past the blood, the smuggler’s rew disguise, to the vivid light that was Obi-Wan’s Force presence. He touched the pale face, thumb brushing across the beginnings of a beard. He’d nearly lost the other Jedi, nearly lost this connection between them.

Slowly, he carried Obi-Wan back through the dark ship corridor, finding the lone cabin on the ship and gently placing the man on the bed. Obi-Wan was still covered in blood, but Qui-Gon no longer had the energy to remain standing. He swayed, the room tilting around him, growing dark. He managed to lie down before unconsciousness fully came, his hand reaching out to rest in Obi-Wan’s blood-soaked hair.

* * *

The Force surrounded Obi-Wan, bathing him in light. He breathed in the pure strength of it, sinking into the comfort it provided. He knew he was in a healing trance, knew that when he awoke there would likely be pain. For now, all was still. He remained quiet, feeling rather than seeing, knowing the Force as a part of himself.

It felt different to him, he realized after a long while or perhaps not that long at all. The white light of the Force was suffused with rich undertones of color, the sheer power of it stronger than anything he’d felt before. It encompassed him and soothed him, a part of him but not from him. There was someone else there, Obi-Wan realized, someone other than the clinical mind of a Jedi Healer, or the expert perfunctory touch of a Council member.

Obi-Wan had no concept of time for when the trance began to dissipate, multi-hued light fading so that he became aware once more of his own body. He breathed in raggedly, tasting the dry recycled air of space travel. Warmth slid over his skin, stronger on his left side, a pressure near him let him know that he was not alone. The heavy medicated sensation he often felt when waking at the healers wasn’t there, nor was the sharp pain of waking from a trance when on a mission, there was only discomfort. A throbbing sensation trailed through his arm, a general light-headedness reminding him that he had lost a substantial amount of blood.

Memories sparked across his mind and he tensed, recalling the dark execution chamber, the relentless cold and Uriv slitting his wrist. Another image came suddenly, of a small hidden place where a man with eyes as blue as the luminescent plant life around them stood and watched him with unmasked tenderness.

Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan stirred, a jolt of fear winding through him. He had meant to rescue the Jedi Master, had he failed? Where was he? He forced heavy eyelids open, glimpsing dark metal around him before the pressure along his side moved, the bed shifting at the weight of another being.

Obi-Wan turned his head, drawing in a shuddering breath as Qui-Gon stared back at him, the man’s long graying hair a tangled mess against his shoulders, one strong arm surrounding Obi-Wan, their limbs tangled together on the small bed, clothing stiff with dried blood.

Never had Obi-Wan felt another’s entire mind against his own. He reached out tentatively with the Force, Qui-Gon’s presence responding eagerly. Dizzying exhaustion pulled at both of them but Obi-Wan kept his touch light against the other’s mind, almost smiling as Qui-Gon gazed at him, blue eyes soft with tired relief. The older man slowly touched Obi-Wan’s face, thumb tracing down to Obi-Wan’s mouth, warm against the younger Jedi’s lower lip.

They watched one another for a long time, dark blue eyes meeting bright blue-green ones. Weariness filled their bones but with it came a soft contentment. For everything to stop, for this moment to be unending, this closeness to linger, unexplained but so wanted.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes briefly as Qui-Gon’s other hand moved against his side, sliding up the man’s spine and brushing through the shorter strands of reddish hair along the back of Obi-Wan’s scalp. His lips parted, tongue flicking daringly out, tasting the warm salt of Qui-Gon’s skin. The older man drew in a sharp breath and Obi-Wan’s eyes opened again, looking at Qui-Gon. He felt the other’s Force sense as if he were caught in the tunnel of a crashing wave, a maelstrom of thought and emotion flowed from the older Jedi, their minds entangling, the sensation chaotic and beautiful.

Qui-Gon’s thumb brushed over his lip, moving downward to cup Obi-Wan’s chin, his other hand tangling in Obi-Wan’s hair. There was no air to breathe, nothing but this passion, this knowledge of another mouth taking his own. The Force rose between them, melding the very essence of what they were, Obi-Wan gasping and returning each kiss.

Hands fumbled against the ragged clothes of the other Jedi, suddenly desperate to touch and be touched. It was inevitable, such closeness. Perhaps it had been inevitable that first meeting on FR-34V1. His wrist stung with pain, his motions fractured despite his need and Qui-Gon’s mouth gentled on him, the older man pulling back just far enough that they could see one another. Fingers carded through his hair, Qui-Gon’s hand a warm weight holding his face still, looking into his eyes with a certainty that stole Obi-Wan’s breath as easily as the man’s kisses had.

Neither of them spoke, Obi-Wan knowing that the promise in the older Jedi’s eyes meant more than anything in the Code ever had. The Force was alive between them, encircling their hearts and minds and Obi-Wan let it in, let everything about Qui-Gon close.

_The End_

**Author's Note:**

> nothing is more beautiful than Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon tossing aside the Code’s rules about attachments to spend the rest of their lives together. Also, I couldn’t resist Qui-Gon falling in love with Obi-Wan forever ago and Obi-Wan having no clue about it. :)
> 
> If you’re interested in participating in the 2020 Jinnobi Challenge as an artist and/or writer, you can find all the information right here: https://infinitejedilove.tumblr.com/post/628996508813049856/the-2020-jinnobi-challenge-is-less-than-a-month


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